


Dean's secret

by Trekiael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, M/M, Mild Smut, Top Dean, implied - Freeform, panties!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:58:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekiael/pseuds/Trekiael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of keeping it to himself, Dean finally lets Cas on with his little secret. This leads to a revelation and Cas being a very willing partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean's secret

**Author's Note:**

> For carriononofmywaywardson after a small chat on Tumblr.

Surprisingly, Dean doesn't bring his secret to the grave. And even more surprisingly, the one person that he confesses it to is Cas.

 

Maybe because after so many years, it doesn't seem that important anymore. Maybe he needs to get it off his chest. Maybe because he knows Cas won't judge him about it. Or maybe because he's pissed drunk and horny and he's been ranting about sex for the past hour and Cas, bless his soul, has been listening despite berating him for how innapropriate it is.

 

“But ya know... It's not like I think about it all the time or somethin'... I mean, yeah, it felt nice, but it's not some kind of kink or any crap like that...”

 

He licks his lips, take another gulp from his glass, and frowns. His vision is a little blurry as he stares at the ugly tapestry of their motel room. He blinks forcefully, collecting his thoughts, but doesn't bother glancing at Cas.

 

“I think it's the fabric, ya know? It was silk or satin or some shit like that. And fuck that felt nice on my cock. Okay so it was really kinky, but it's not like I wanna wear some everyday or something. I just...”

 

“I get it, Dean.”

 

Dean finally cuts off his rant to look at Cas. He's sitting next to him on the double bed, playing with the label of his beer (Cas likes beer. But not so much whiskey, even if it does nothing to him). He's slouching, shoulders hunched inwards because after so many years Cas still can't wear his body properly. His fingers, though, they're graceful. Long and slender and delicate. Even if Dean perfectly well know that it wouldn't take much strength at all to crush that bottle in between them. Maybe that's why he's so graceful. Because he's controlling his strength all the time.

 

Feeling Dean's dazed gaze on him, Cas raises his head. He doesn't look all that comfortable but his smile is gentle. Cas doesn't smile often, because he's a frowny serious bastard, but when he does, it's always gentle and soft and it brightens his face in a way that makes Dean think that angels aren't all bags of dicks.

 

“There is nothing wrong about enjoying that sort of thing, I believe. Perhaps you would be more comfortable if your partner is the one to wear them.”

 

Dean stares, proceding that, and Cas averts his eyes, shifting a little. Yeah, definitely not comfortable, but willing to indulge Dean. If Dean was a little bit sober, maybe he'd feel bad for making Cas do this, but as it is, he's just happy that Cas is willing to listen.

 

However, Cas' answer makes him frown, because there's something nagging at him there.

 

“But... Girls wear panties all the time and I dunno, it's sexy yeah, but that was different...”

 

He's really frowning now, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass in utter confusion. Trying to make sense of it while he's drunk might not be the most senseful idea, but now that he's there...

 

Cas' non-comical hum drags him out of his thoughts and he raises his head to look at him again. Cas is staring at the wall, frowning in ponderation. Finally, he licks his lips and speaks, slowly.

 

“Maybe... Was it because you are a man?”

 

Cas shakes his head and looks at Dean, apologetic.

 

“I'm sorry Dean, I'm no expert on these things.”

 

But Dean is frozen. Because this right there is important. It feels like Cas put his finger on something. He stares, for a long, long time, at Cas' face, searching. But he's too drunk, and his thoughts keep drifting and meeting walls and finally he groans and let his head drop against the wall.

 

“Okay, whatever, I'll think about it later.”

 

He finishes his glass and opens his mouth to ask Cas if he's staying, but instead passes out, right there on the bed, sitting, fully clothed. The glass is barely held between his lax fingers on his belly. He doesn't wake up when Cas gently tugs the glass away from is grasp and takes off his shoes before making him lie down properly.

 

The subject is buried anew.

 

But not for very long, though. A few weeks later, Dean is standing in the middle of a lingerie store, breathing heavily with his bloody knife dangling from his fingers. He just killed a siren, who happened to own a lingerie store, go figure and now he's alone in the almost complete darkness. Sam is on the other side of town and Dean quickly texts him to tell him the job is done on his side. He lets out a relieved sigh when Sam comfirmed everything is clear on his as well.

 

Sam has the car, so Dean needs to wait for him to fetch him. He glances down at the corpse on the ground in disgust and raises his knife. The blade is disgusting and he grimaces. His hand automatically snatches one of the pantie hanging beside him to wipe it clean, but as soon as he has the fabric bunches in his hand, he freezes.

 

He looks down at the panties. He can't really make out the color, but it's something pale, white or pastel blue or pink. No pattern that he can see. There's lace, though, and it's made of an incredibly soft fabric. He rubs it between his fingers, marevelling at the way the fabric smoothly slide on itself and against his skin.

 

Suddenly, he remembers the drunken chat with Cas. They never finished the conversation, but Dean remembers it clearly enough. And especially Cas' input. One, Dean might actually like it better if he feels it against his skin when his partner is wearing it. Two, it excites him more when he thinks about the fact that he himself was a guy wearing them.

 

It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

 

Dean swallows, and shifts. Now that's a conversation he never had with anyone, not even himself. He jokes about it sometimes, but deep, deep, deep down, he knows he never was perfectly honest with himself on the subject. But he's 34 now, he's old (if he wants to be perfectly technical about it, his soul is 74 years old), he's tired, his life sucks, and he doesn't give a shit anymore. Why the fuck should he keep pretending? For whose sake?

 

So he lets himself picture it. It doesn't come easily, because that's completely new to him. He tries to think of a man, tries to make him attractive even if he has no fucking clue about what he could find attractive or not about a man. But after some tentative picturing, he manages to find it. In his mind, the man is wearing a suit, because Dean knows that, at least, he's attracted to well-dressed men, uniforms more than welcome (which is hilarious since he despise authority and law and all that shit. Maybe it's something about corrupting all these nice officers and shit...)

 

Alright so the guy is in a suit. He's rather tall, but not bigger or taller than Dean. More like average, but with long legs and strong shoulders. He can't put a face on him, so he doesn't bother with it and instead undresses him in his mind. His skin is golden. He's slender with a thin waist but not skinny. His mucles don't bulge but they are there, under suple skin. He looks soft, but still strong.

 

Dean takes a deep breath and lets the fantasy morph. Because that's the entire point of the exercise. And suddenly, the man is wearing lacy white panties. The heat rush comes unexpected, even if Dean really should have seen it coming. He swallows thickly and bites his lip, not knowing what to do with that fantasy. Tentatively, he pictures himself moving closer, until he has no choice but to touch. In his mind, his hand traces down the guy's chest and stops at the waistband of the panties. Then it circles the waist, over a sharp hipbone, and to the back. And then, slowly, goes over the guy's ass.

 

He exhales, slowly. The fantasy is made more real by the fact that he still has the panties in his hand and he can feel the fabric under his thumb. Well, that comfirms it at least. Dean has a thing for men in women's underwear. Right. Alright. Great.

 

He goes to dismiss the fantasy, but right before he does, for some reason, his mental eyes go up to the guy's face. Big blue eyes stare right back at him, a soft smile on full lips. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, straight nose, messy dark hair. Fuck. He knows that face.

 

Dean flushes all over, feeling both incredibly guilty and aroused and fucking glad that he's alone in darkness. There's a lump in his throat and his hands are shaking. Fuck no. No, no, no and no god fucking dammit. He can't. He just can't. … But he does, and he is, and fuck him, he really, really should not have gotten there.

 

He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a car door slam with a squick that he's very familiar with. Panicking, he stuffs the panties in his pocket and passes his hand over his face, trying to compose himself. Right, Sam, the case. Business, Dean. This is work. You'll think about your gay fantasies about your nerdy angel later.

 

“Dean?”

 

“In there, Sammy.”

 

Later turns out to be the next night.

 

After the case, they drive back to the bunker. Cas calls them in the way to tell them he's got a lead on Metatron and that he's going to meet them there. He's not there yet when they arrive and Dean relaxes a little. He's not really ready to face Cas and any minute won to brace himself before Cas is coming is good in his book.

 

Nervous, he walks in the library and takes off his jacket, tossing it on the back of a chair absent-mindedly. Sam follows and sits on a chair, sighing and stretching after the long car ride. Dean is restless, though, so he goes to the kitchen to grab a beer. When he comes back, he's lost in thoughts, but almost drops the beers when he sees Sam looking down at what he's holding in his hand that Dean recognizes immediately despite the fact that now he can definitely see the color (pale blue).

 

“Dean...”

 

It takes a lot to make Dean blush. He can squirm, he can be uncomfortable, but blush not really. But seeing his little borther with the object of his deed right in front of him certainly does the trick. He hurries to the table and slams the beers down before snatching the panties out of Sam's hand and hiding them behind his back.

 

“It's not what you think! You surprised me and I just...”

 

Sam is giving him the Bitch Face TM. He's unimpressed and definitely not up to hear any of Dean's bullshit. Which is unfair because Dean is innocent and honestly didn't mean to steal those and fuck that situation sucks.

 

“Dude. It's none of my business but you should hide those better because gross, man.”

 

“I told you, it's not-”

 

“Dean? Sam? Is there something wrong?”

 

Dean closes his eyes and wills the ground to swallow him whole. Yes, even if that means ending up on the rack again. He doesn't dare turning around to look at Cas' face. His voice alone sent a wave of heat through his body and he feels more nervous than the first time he kissed Robin when he was 16. This is bad. Really, really bad.

 

“Don't worry about it, Cas.”

 

Sam's voice is gentle, and he brushes the matter aside. Cas, however, doesn't answer, and Dean finally turns around. Cas' eyes are fixed on his hand and Dean realizes that he's staring at the panties. Well, fuck. Can this get any worse now? Dean's blush darkens, but Cas stays composed, even if Dean can see a slight flush on the angel's face. This is surprising, because if Dean is not the type to blush, the only time he saw Cas getting flustered was that day he dragged him to the Dean of Iniquity. And right now he doesn't look like he's freaking out, only blushing.

 

Dean clears his throat and hastily stuffs the panties in his jeans pocket. Cas finally tears his gaze away to look in his own, but there's something a bit coy about his expression and Dean feels even more heat spread. The fantasy comes back, slamming into his chest in a crashing wave of desire like nothing he felt before. Dammit, he has it bad.

 

Cas averts his eyes and steps closer, and after a tense silence where everyone is wondering how to get out of that situation, they simply drop the subject and start talking about what Cas found.

 

Later, Dean takes a shower. He didn't get to after the case and he feels disgusting. The hot water helps him relax somewhat, but there's still a lump in his throat and his stomach keeps flipping around. He has no fucking clue what to do now. He knows instinctively that this is big. This is not something that can easily go away. Part of him wishes there was a way, but another part of him likes it. He has never felt more alive than at this moment, and it had been ages since he had felt so strongly for something that wasn't killing.

 

Clean, considerably refreshed, shaved, he walks back to his room in nothing but a towel. But what he doesn't expect, when he pushes the door open, is to find Cas already there, sitting on his bed. He's still wearing his coat, because despite having been human for a while Cas hasn't really learnt the trick of taking his coat while inside, and slouching even more so than usual. His eyes are on his hands, his left one wraps around the middle finger of his right one as he slowly twisted it around. He's nervous, and in turn, that makes Dean even more nervous.

 

“Cas...?”

 

Cas raises his head and jerkily stands up. Neither says anything for a moment, and Dean ends up taking a deep breath. He forces himself to relax and release the door handle, closing it behind himself as he steps inside. He puts on his best casual front and walks to his drawers, taking off some clean clothes.

 

“What's up?”

 

Cas doesn't answer right away, but Dean hears him shift. Blinking, he turns around only to see Cas take off the panties from his jeans pocket with two elegant fingers closed in a pinch around the fabric. Dean wants to stop him, but the breath dies in his throat. Cas looks down at the panties, delicately wrapping his free hand around them to rub the fabric.

 

“How did you get those?”

 

His voice is quiet, low. The air is thick. Dean shifts and crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“The case... The siren owns a lingerie store and I snatched them by accident.”

 

Cas nods, accepting the explanation without doubting him.

 

“Have you... Thought about our last discussion?”

 

Dean nods, and realizing that Cas can't see it, clears his throat and answers out loud.

 

“Yeah...”

 

Cas finally raises his head to look at him.

 

“And?”

 

Dean doesn't answer right away because he's too busy staring. It's completely ridiculous because there's nothing new about that face. He knows it as well as his own or Sam's, maybe even better since Cas spent so much time staring at him without giving a fuck about the concept of personal space. But it's like he's seeing it for the first time. He always knew, of course, that Cas' meat suit was good looking. He didn't really give a crap at first because it was not _Cas_. But he has come to accept it as part of Cas and now both are inseparable.

 

So Cas has a criminal face. Dean can't say much about his body because Cas always wears too many layers but from what he can see and what he was able to see that one time he had to save him, there's nothing to be ashamed of there either. But most importantly, this is Cas' face. His angel. His best friend. His...

 

“You...might have a point.”

 

Cas smiles. That little smile that only tilts one side of his mouth and should be fucking illegal because it's just so freaking cute and Cas is older than dirt and 'cute' is not an adjective that should be used to describe him at all. The smile stays as Cas looks down again.

 

“I see...”

 

There's another silence. Dean doesn't always understand Cas, but he's starting to realize what's going on there. His hands clench around his arms and he bites the inside of his cheek.

 

“That's all you wanted to know?”

 

Cas wordlessly shakes his head. His smiles drop and is replaced by his impatient frown. Impatient at himself, Dean guesses, but he has no way to be sure until Cas fucking starts speaking. He doesn't, not right away, and huffs. Finally, his eyes fix on Dean's face and he march resolutely forward, until he's invading Dean's personal space and Dean forgets how to breath.

 

“I am not very good at that type of things, Dean. But...”

 

Cas raises his chin, almost defiantly, and his eyes narrow. If Dean wasn't too busy freaking out he'd be amused by Cas' brave front.

 

“If you want me to, I'm willing to wear these for you.”

 

Dean's legs almost give out under him. His jaw drop, his eyes widen. Holy fucking shit. Did Cas just offer to wear panties for him? Just like that? No fucking way... His brain is trying to tell him that it's just a huge misunderstanding, but his cock obviously doesn't care and just like that, he's hard like a rock.

 

“Fuck yeah...”

 

He clamps his mouth shut. He spoke without really thinking about it and now he feels like an idiot. He clears his throat to correct himself, ask Cas to clarify or something, but Cas is smiling, blushing again, and stepping out of his space. Dean thinks Cas is going to leave or something, but instead, Cas takes off his coat.

 

Dean stares, eyes wide, as Cas takes off layer after layer of cloth, toeing his shoes off and unbuckling his belt. There's nothing sexy about it, he's not offering a show, and his hands are shaking. But it doesn't matter because Dean is still so freaking hard and his heart is pounding in his chest. What the fuck is going on?

 

He's breathing heavily by the time Cas is down to his underwear (plain, poorly fitting), and let out a strangled noise when Cas drop these as well, without preamble but with his hands shaking more than ever. He's trying to look unaffected, but his face is red and he can't look at Dean at all. And then he's putting on the panties. Once done, he swallows and raises his head, looking at Dean through his lashes and awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, naked safe for those ridiculously small panties that can't hold his dick properly.

 

Dean has to lean against his drawers, hand clutching the edge so hard his knuckles are white, the other curled in a fist by his side. Cas is asolutely beautiful and hot and Jesus fucking Christ Dean is gonna come in his pants like a fucking teenager just by looking at him.

 

“Is that... Fine?”

 

Cas' nervous question breaks through Dean's stupid lack of reactivity. Shaking his head, he stands up straight and gets a grip of himself. Cas was brave enough to do it, for Dean, and Dean is being the less smooth motherfucker ever. He clears his throat and forces himself to move, stepping closer until he's the one, for once, to invade Cas' personal space. Meanwhile, Cas' eyes are trying not to stare too much at his hard cock, that the towel can't really hide at all.

 

“You're perfect.”

 

It's cheesy as fuck, and Dean feels a little embarrassed to say it, but fuck him, it's the fucking truth and Cas is gonna hear it, dammit. Cas looks pleased, and does this half smile thing while his entire face seems to glow. Dean racks his teeth over his bottom lip as his hand reaches to cup Cas' face, his thumb tracing his bottom lip.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Cas huffs and narrows his eyes.

 

“After this? I'll smite you if you don't.”

 

Dean grins and leans slightly down to kiss him. He wants to be slow and gentle, to taste and explore and take his time because Cas is still so very inexperienced. But of course, after so many, many years, it's a lost cause and their lips barely brush before they're devouring each other's mouth, tongues fiercely rubbing together and hands roaming and clutching at anything they can reach.

 

Dean's towel drops somewhere in the middle of it and he's fucking glad he didn't get dressed right away because it's so much better that there's nothing preventing him from pushing his hard cock against Cas' panties-clad one. At the first contact he groans, loudly, into Cas' mouth. Cas does the same, now equally as hard and desperatedly clinging to Dean, both arms around his neck and clawing at his back and clenching in what little hair they can grab.

 

In comon decision, they shuffle toward the bed, not breaking the kiss and barely separating, until the back of Cas' knees hit the edge and he flops down on his back, breaking the kiss. Dean leans down to resume it and grasp Cas' hips, helping him shuffle back until he's comfortably resting against the pillows with Dean kneeling between his legs.

 

Dean lowers himself until his cock is back against Cas' own and Cas immediately latches both legs around his waist, bucking his hips to get some more than needed friction. Dean obliges, rolling his hips down in strong, large but smooth movements. Cas answers by tearing his mouth away from his and tilting his head back, breathing his name.

 

Dean's lips, now free, sweep down to suck and bite on Cas neck, panting harshly against his skin and covering it in saliva and bruises. Cas tilts his head further back, clearly enjoying the ministrations, and rack his nails down Dean's back, which make his hips stutter in a mix of pain and pleasure.

 

Cas, impatient as he is, lets his legs flop back down. He spread them wider and digs his heels in the matress, using them as levergae to push harder up. One of Dean's hand reaches under Cas' head, clutching his hair and tilting his head even further back so that he can mouth at the wobbling Adam apple on his throat. The other one goes to one of Cas' leg, grabbing it and pushing it up until Dean's cock is rubbing against both the space between his cheeks and his cock.

 

Nothing, ever, in his life, has ever felt as good as this. Dean had a lot, a fucking lot of sex, but this is another level entirely. For one thing, he doesn't have to be gentle. Cas is strong. He's a guy, of course, but more than that, he's an angel and even pumped up with the Mark of Cain Dean is still a mere human and doesn't have the strength to hurt him.

 

And for another thing... This is more than sex. Cas has cared about girls he had sex with before, but none had ever been as important as Cas is to him. Feeling Cas this close, finally being able to feel him in a way he had never let himself want to before but always did, deep down, is driving him absolutely crazy. He wants him so bad he can't even think straight. Wants more, wants closer, wants to make one with him.

 

It occurs to him that he could fuck Cas. That Cas might go along with it. And as soon as he thinks about it he starts pushing even harder. Fuck. Sticking his cock in Cas' ass, feeling him clench around him, feeling him from the inside... He wants to, so badly. But not this time. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to pause, doesn't want to have to search for the things they'd need. Later, they'll take more time. He knows there's no way this is a one-time thing. The thought excites him even more. He wants to take his time exploring Cas' body. He wants to prepare him properly and slowly push into him until he's adjusted enough to take Dean's serious pounding, until he can push back, until Dean can drive him absolutely mad and make him come so hard, angel strength or not, he would lose all of it and end up boneless under the strength of his orgasm.

 

But for now, this is good, this is perfect. The panties feel wonderful against his cock. In a split decision, Dean pause and wriggle until his cock sneaks under the panties through the leg slit, now confined alongisde Cas' own and feeling the hot hard smooth flesh of Cas' dick against his own. They both groan loudly at the change. The panties are stretch tight over Cas' body, the fabric taunt between Cas' cheeks.

 

They both resume moving, even harder than before. Precum ooze from both their dicks, soaking the panties and making the slide smoother. A few times, Dean's cock slip and ends up in Cas' crack instead. Cas doesn't complain and lets of a whole body shiver as the head of Dean's cock rubs against his hole. And it's when it happens again that Cas comes, back arching off the bed and a loud, hoarse moan escaping his throat.

 

That's all it takes. After a couple more thrusts, Dean comes as well with a strangled moan and a jerky stutter of his hips. His sweaty hand slips on Cas' leg and he loses his balance, almost collapsing on Cas. For a moment, they lay there, panting harshly against each other's mouths, eyes closed and chest heaving. Cas' legs are spread wide, strengthless, on each side of Dean's hips. One of Dean's hand is still buried in Cas' hair, the other planted on the matress beside his head, shaking as it supports his weight.

 

Finally, they open their eyes and look at each other. They stare for a while through heavy-lided eyes. And then they're kissing again, deeply, but slower, more lazy. They don't break it as Dean roll to his side, dropping beside Cas. Cas' leg raises up to rest on Dean's waist. Their softening cocks are still inside Cas' panties, oversenstive but still making the most subtle movements for friction. As they kiss, Dean's hand traces down Cas' spine, thumb brushing over the bumps until it reaches his ass, which it grasps in a firm grip.

 

Dean's cock ends up slipping out when he's completely soft, cum leaking down Cas' thigh. They stop kissing then and simply lay there, looking at each other with their noses almost press together. Tentatively, Cas smiles, and then wider when Dean answers with a smile of his own. They don't speak, because neither know what to say, and there's no immediate need at this point. Dean ends up falling asleep just like that, and Cas stays there, watching him sleep, this time with Dean's unspoken permission.

 

The next morning is a bit awkward, because they really need to talk, and they're both dirty with dry semen, but they're too caught in the afterglow to let any of that bother them too much. They can't keep their eyes out of each other and always end up gravitating in each other's personal space, though they're too hesitant to really touch.

 

They find Sam in the kitchen, eating cereals and surfing on his computer. They all mumble greetings and Dean feels definitely awkward now because what the fuck is he gonna tell Sam? He figures it can wait, though, until he at least talked to Cas first, and sits down with coffee. Cas sits beside him, a little closer than strictly necessary, but they both act natural about it. Finally, Sam's voice breaks the silence, sounding entirely too casual.

 

“You know Dean, if I had known that all it would take was drop panties in Cas' hand for you to to finally get on with it, I would have done it years ago.”

 

Dean chokes on his coffee, and while Cas rubs his back as he coughs, Dean sends his brother a writhering glare, who only looks back smugly. God he hates that brat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed as always.
> 
> There's a GoT reference in there, kudos if you got it ;D


End file.
